


Lambando estarei ao lembrar esse amor

by izziEreads



Category: Flipline Studios, Papa Louie (Video Games), Papa Louie Arcade
Genre: Alcohol, Bittersweet Ending, Dancing, Drinking to Cope, F/M, Fix-It, Future Fic, Hurt/Comfort, I don't know how drinking works, I've been looking for a good Flipline fic for a while, In Vino Veritas, Lambada bc why not, Miscommunication, Missing Scene, Mutual Pining, My First Work in This Fandom, Oneshot, Portuguese? In my fic? It's more likely than you think, Quinn can dance, Up for interpretation, emotional catharsis, is Timm a simp? maybe, it's not supposed to be good, just needed the idea out of my head, lambada-ing, pls leave kudos, result of hyperfixating, self-indulgent writing, so much lore research to make this, that trope where you run into someone you knew at the bar
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-27
Updated: 2020-09-27
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:27:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26684383
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/izziEreads/pseuds/izziEreads
Summary: After a rough day, Quinn needs a drink. Who knew an old friend would be there? Lambadas, smiles, and drinks galore!~Title translates to "Lambada-ing I will be, remembering this love" in reference to the song Lambada by Kaoma. (Lambada is a dance)
Relationships: Quimm (Flipline), Quimm (Papa Louie), Quinn (Flipline) & Timm (Flipline), Quinn (Flipline)/Timm (Flipline), Quinn (Papa Louie) & Timm (Papa Louie), Quinn (Papa Louie)/Timm (Papa Louie)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 12





	Lambando estarei ao lembrar esse amor

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer! I do not own any of the mentioned characters, locations, etc! They are all property of Flipline IDS LLC! I'm just an avid fan expanding on a piece of media! Mr. Matt Neff & Mr. Tony Solary, I love you guys!! :^)
> 
> "Lambada," "Kaoma," "Turn up the Love," and "Far East Movement" are completely separate pieces of media, which I do not own. All rights go to their respective owners.

Quinn had had a bad day. It appeared her title as one of the best lawyers of Tacodale was not enough for the courts of Tastyville, as she had lost today's case. She swore the judge sitting there was against her from the start.

  
She hated losing a case. This case’s end was even more devastating, as she had traveled all the way to Tastyville on a day she normally wouldn't have for it, which was sure to throw off her schedule. To make matters worse, the hotel she was staying at wasn't exactly a resort. Quinn searched the room for any indications of alcohol. To her dismay, there was none in sight.

  
The map on Quinn's phone said Club Atomic was the nearest bar, only a two-mile drive. She wasn't too keen on parties, but a drink was a drink, and she needed to get drunk enough to forget it all.

  
The taxi ride’s silence was deafening, as it left Quinn to her thoughts. The heartbreaking face of the man she was supposed to be defending kept replaying in her head like a broken record player.

  
"Ma'am?" The taxi driver snapped her back into reality.

Quinn looked out the window and found they had arrived. She quietly thanked him, paid her fare, and stepped onto the pavement. The fluorescent sign reflected its light upon Quinn's face with neon colors. But, apparently, Wednesday nights were not very popular for parties, as the night club didn't have too many people. The bouncer turned his phone off and slipped it away as Quinn approached him.

  
“ID, please?”

Quinn sighed tiredly as she fumbled for her wallet and showed him the card. She just wanted to sit down and drink. It's not like she deserved it, though.

“Thank you ma'am, enjoy your night.”

She muttered something under her breath in return as she walked in. Seeing that an island was relatively empty, she took a seat there. The bartender wiped his hands on his apron as he approached her.

“I just need to get drunk enough to relax,” Quinn confessed. “Kamikaze?”

The bartender nodded and went to work on the drink, leaving Quinn to her thoughts.

In almost no time, a line of three shot glasses was set down in front of her. 

A voice sounded through the night club. “DJ Honey Buster here, taking requests. We gotta get more people on the dance floor, y’all!”

 _“Right,”_ Quinn thought to herself, _“People dance in clubs.”_ The dance floor was nearly empty, so the DJ was probably looking to please the crowd. 

Quinn drank her first shot, wanting to get drunk as soon as she possibly could.

Suddenly, she heard footsteps approaching her from behind. A voice she had tried for so long to forget, spoke.

“Quinn?”

He saw her shoulders rise with tension. Quinn wouldn't turn to face him, persistent on looking down at her drink.

“I'm just here for a drink, Timm.” She buried her mouth in the glass. It was almost as if God had heard her and placed him there, just to test her. 

Timm moved over to her left side but didn't sit down. “I haven't seen you in a while, how have you been?”

Quinn brushed her bangs to the side. “I saw you last week. At the pie shop.” She corrected him.

  
“Oh, right.” 

Timm stood still for a beat, then slid himself into the seat next to her. “How have you been, Ms. Hutson?” He said as he smiled hopefully.

“Fine.” She replied. Quinn wasn't in the mood to see him, at least not yet, but she also wasn't going to ignore him. They were grown, for goodness sake. “How about you?”

“Good, thank you for asking.” He leaned in to see her glass. “Whatcha drinking? Knowing you, it's gotta be a Kamikaze.”

Down went half of the second shot. “I needed a pick-me-up. This gives it to me.”

Timm tilted his head. “Awww, I know how to fix that poignant face of yours. Even better, it doesn't involve alcohol.”

She squinted up at him, knowing what was coming. His arm was already extended towards her.

“Dance with me?” Timm suggested.

She scoffed and rolled her eyes. “I don't dance.” She said as if it was an insult. Quinn drank the rest of her glass and set it down. “Besides, this music isn't even danceable,” she glanced at Hugo, “No offense to your friend, though.”

Timm chuckled, “Hah, it's fine. It's a slow night, he just needs a push."

He got up, turned on his heel and swaggered over to the DJ table, leaving Quinn to frown with growing dread. With nothing else to do, she drank her last shot.

“Hugo, buddy.” He started as he went for a side hug. Hugo brought down his big headphones and hugged him.

“Timmy, my man, how ya doing?”

Timm ran his hand through the locks of hair on his head. “Eh, I'm good. Hey, can I ask you for a favor?”

Hugo nodded his head quickly, “Yeah, yeah, of course. What's up?”

He beckoned at Quinn subtly, “I need a song we can dance to. Do you happen to have Lambada?”

“Kaoma, 1989? Of course, I do! It's a classic." Hugo said with confidence. He then leaned into Timm and smiled, "Tell you what, just let me know when you want it to start.”

“Ahhh, Hugo, you're the best. And if you don't mind, can you just make it a bit longer? She'll need some time to get used to dancing.” He attached a chuckle at the end.

“Yeah, I got you, buddy. Go on and dance. And… uh, good luck with her. She seems like the… uptight kind, compared to you.”

“Yeah, yeah, thank you,” Timm said as he shoved him playfully.

About three-fourths of the way to Quinn, Timm signaled at Hugo, and he winked back. The familiar drumbeat made Quinn's head shoot up as she looked to see where it was coming from. The sound of the accordion filled the club as Timm walked towards her.

He tried suppressing his grin as he started to sing. _“Chorando se foi, quem um dia só me fez chorar…”_

Quinn exhaled hard as she stood up. She put her glass on the counter and waved her finger at Timm. “One song. Only because I've had some drinks.”

He looked down at his hand, still extended, and then back at her. She hesitated, but then took it, and together they walked to the dance floor. Timm gave Quinn’s hand a squeeze of reassurance. 

They both settled into the middle of the dance floor, a few eyes watching them to see what they would do next. Reluctantly, Quinn put her arms on Timm. He slowly brought his hands to her back. The two felt something familiar about it, almost nostalgic.

Timm moved seamlessly into the footwork, moving them back and forth to the music. Quinn, however, struggled with moving.

“Quit stepping on me.” She muttered as she looked down at their feet.

Timm laughed a bit. “Then you gotta move your feet.”

She closed her eyes and loosened up a considerable amount. Timm could see her face relax as she began the familiar footwork. 

“You know this song, you can do it.”

“Too many…” Quinn struggled to find the word, “ _Suppressed_ memories.”

He spun her as he asked, “Suppressed? We used to dance this all the time.” 

“Exactly.” She pressed her lips together.

Timm didn't reply, as he couldn't find anything to say. The two danced quietly for a few seconds when they saw a young couple enthusiastically run to the floor. They began dancing together but were looking over to Timm and Quinn for reference every so often.

“Heh, we should get that Romano girl to play this song. On her accordion, it'd sound pretty nice…” Timm said, breaking the ice some more.

Quinn smiled. “Yeah, I guess it would.”

For a while, Timm forgot about the rushed day he had at work, taking orders and serving freshly baked pies. Quinn didn't have to think about the advantage she gave the opposing team with her hesitation. It was like it had been a few years ago; when they would dance in the dark, long after closing the firm for the day. Back when the firm was still _Quinn, Timm, and Associates._

As they circled each other, Quinn came to a realization. Maybe a part of her still _did_ like him. When Timm left the firm, it was more than a partner. It was even more of a friend she could confide in that she lost. And, oh God, she missed him. His dumb baby face, his light-heartedness… Even the locks of hair she had so-often told him to fix before a meeting.

Timm held Quinn close as they danced. He didn't regret his decision to leave the firm. He knew dancing was his calling, and he hoped Quinn understood that. However, it didn't mean he wanted to leave her. The things they had accomplished together were amazing. He looked down at her when he knew she wasn't looking. It reminded him of back then; not exactly perfect, but enjoyable. He, naturally, hid his wistfulness pretty well.

“This is the third time the chorus has played.” Quinn suddenly said, looking up at Timm. Who knew how much time had passed. “You didn't happen to ask for an extended version, did you?”

“...Well, I might have. One song isn't nearly enough.” He replied with his contagious smile.

She rolled her eyes playfully. “Of course you did.”

“I mean, you are already up here. Might as well stay a bit longer.” Timm said. 

It was clearly enough to convince Quinn to stay, as she continued to dance. Timm wasn’t sure if she was deliberately doing it or if the alcohol was the main catalyst like she had said, but he liked to think it was her choosing to be with him.

After some time, the song slowly got quieter. Timm ended with a flourish, dipping Quinn. As soon as the music faded, Hugo's voice spoke. “Give it up for dancer Timm Davis and his partner.”

The guests sitting around clapped, some even whistling and cheering.

Timm swung her back upright. “Nice job.” 

Pushing her glasses back into position, Quinn returned a giggle. It quickly grew into an uncontrollable laugh of joy.

They returned to the island Quinn had been sitting in and took a seat. Timm waved over the bartender and asked for a virgin piña colada and a plate of pretzels. Quinn was still laughing at the dopamine ride that was dancing, struggling to catch her breath. The order came fairly quickly, and the plate of pretzels was placed between the two. They both instinctively reached for some.

Timm's smile faded ever-so-slightly as he let out a little cough. “Quinn, you—” She turned to him with her expression still with an exhilarated daze. He hesitated for a few seconds before getting serious, “I'm sorry. About everything.”

Quinn’s expression slowly dropped as she realized what he was talking about. “No, not right now, please.” 

“I just, I didn't feel complete with the law firm.”

_“Timm.”_

“Dancing, it made me—”

Quinn raised her voice just enough to cut him off. “I can't right now, Timm."

After a few moments, he moved the hand that was still placed between the two and held it close to himself. “I understand, you'll know when you're ready.”

They both took sips of their respective drinks, looking to the side. The tension between the two had quickly grown, but as drunk as she was, Quinn managed to de-escalate it.

“How… How’s your plan going." 

Timm tilted his head slightly, recalling the details. His answer was soft-spoken. "It's… Okay, I guess. I'm still working at Papa’s Bakeria. I've been in a few local competitions here in Tastyville. I've gone to some in Oniontown, too. I don't always win, naturally, but…" He trailed off. "I enjoy it."

Quinn nodded to herself. She reached towards her shot glass which had been filled for the fourth or fifth time by the bartender. A few beats of their silence contradicted the music that had others dancing in the middle.

“And what about that other girl? The one with the studio.”

“Cecilia? She's… good, too. She has dance sessions at her studio. I stop by to help her teach some days.”

Timm drank the remainder of his piña colada and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. He propped his elbows on the counter and leaned his chin on his hands. Quinn quietly studied him before confessing.

"Look, I don't hate you. If that's what you're waiting for me to say."

He brought one arm down to turn to her. "That… wasn't what I was expecting you to say," Timm confessed. "I do, somehow, feel better hearing that. So thank you."

More beats of silence. It was an awfully common thing for them to do.

“So, what brings you to the bar? I know you're not exactly the partying person…” He asked, swirling his piña colada around with a straw.

She took a deep breath. “I lost my case earlier today. A father had to walk out without custody of his kids, and… Well, I needed a drink.”

“Oh… I'm sorry.” Timm said as he shifted in his seat, not knowing what to say. 

For some reason, the silence made Quinn mad.

“Look, we’re adults. I'm not here to talk to you like any less.” She laid out. “But the law firm? It makes _me_ happy. The way _you_ feel about dancing. Sure, there are times like this when it doesn't work out. It's the satisfaction of when it does go right, though. That's what makes me happy.”

"I get it, Quinn. And I'm happy that you're happy."

Quinn looked to the side. "I guess I feel the same way." She eyed the shot glass that was filled once more, and before thinking any more of it, drank it. Her face twisted at the bitterness as she grunted in what sounded like disgust.

Timm noted that she had probably drunk enough for one night. He asked quietly, “Do you wanna go over to my apartment?”

"...I'm heading back to Tacodale tomorrow morning,” she said. “I'm staying in a hotel room.”

He nodded subtly. Quinn looked down at the watch she was wearing and sighed. “I should be going. I have work to do and the drive back to Tacodale is long.”

“I'll get you a cab.” He offered. “It's the least I could do for you.”

She brought up a hand to her forehead. “Thank you.”

Quinn went to get up, but the effects of the alcohol said otherwise, sending her tumbling to the chair. She laughed at herself louder than she normally would, and Timm joined in with a chuckle. He went over and helped her stand up, steadying her.

"I'm… going to the bathroom." She announced before turning around, leaving Timm standing there. Whatever song had been playing faded and _Turn Up the Love_ by Far East Movement started to play. He playfully rolled his eyes at the irony and sat back down.

"Can I have another piña? Virgin, please." He asked a bit shyly. The bartender chuckled and nodded as he got to work. Contrary to popular belief, Timm wasn't a heavy drinker. He watched the people on the dance floor, watching their moves in hopes of inspiration. As soon as the refill came, he sipped on his drink. The cold went down his throat while he lost himself in his thoughts.

A few minutes later, Quinn approached him.

"Hey, I'm ready to go." She said. Timm stood up as she gave her card to the cashier.

"I'll be back." He leaned into the island and told the bartender, motioning to his drink. Timm scooped up a few pretzels in his hand and ate them as he walked with Quinn. 

They walked around the dance floor, as there was a considerably larger crowd dancing on it.

"Hey, Whiff!" Timm waved at the bouncer towards the exit. "Say hi to Mindy for me."

"Will do, Mr. Davis." He said, returning the smile.

They both stepped outside, the mist of earlier rain hitting them. The two nodded at a man leaning against a wall, lighting a cigarette as they passed him. Turning the corner, they waited for the cab.

“Hey, Quinn?”

She looked over at him. Her eyes were tired, marks of a long day traced her flushed face.

“I know we’ll never be the same as we were back then. And-and I don’t expect us to. But if you want to meet up someday, formally… I'd be down.”

A small, genuine smile came from Quinn. One that wasn’t an effect of alcohol. “Thank you, Timm. I appreciate it.”

On cue, a bright yellow car pulled up in the corner. The two watched it pull up, then faced each other. 

“Well, good night.” Quinn said. She extended her arm, and Timm took it. They shook hands, Quinn's warmer skin catching him off guard.

“G’night, Ms. Hutson.”

They let go of each other, and Timm put his hands in his pocket. She grinned, turned around, and slowly walked to the car.

The taxi driver greeted her as she slumped down on the seat. She looked out the window and waved at Timm one more time. He raised his hand in a tired wave and then turned to go back in.

“Neff Hotel, please.” Quinn said. She closed her eyes as she felt the car start to move.

Now, Quinn was satisfied, more or less. She had gotten drunk enough to relax and had a good time. Who knew? She might wake up the next morning with a small hangover, last night an unintelligible blur. She would squeeze her head with a groan as she got out of bed. Or maybe she would bury herself in the pillows and sleep in, heading back home later.

Regardless, the talk with Timm gave some of the thoughts in her mind closure. She would still see him at the Bakeria about once a week, they would still exchange awkward stares the way people normally do, and they still wouldn't be the same as they were years ago.

But, _hey,_ progress is progress.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! ♡¯\\_(ツ)_/¯♡ I'm actually surprised I finished, I've never written this much without abandoning it!!! I actually wrote this a while ago, during a rough time in my life as a way to cope, and only now got the courage to post it. Kudos and nice comments are appreciated!! ,raratarrtt5t fun fact: I listened to Lambada 50+ times to get the right ~vibes~
> 
> Started: July 20, 2020  
> Finished: August 4, 2020  
> Posted: September 27, 2020
> 
> Thank you to my beta readers: Brian N, Maahum I, Mila M, Kiwi V, and Dhara K <3 
> 
> Yes, this is a sort of “works cited” area. I need to cite my sources, even for fanfic.  
> ♪ credit to Franny for the last names! <3  
> ♪ The hotel is called Neff Hotel bc of our king Matt Neff, co-creator of Flipline Studios  
> ♪ for an idea of what the dance looked like, check out https://youtu.be/iKoJwPH-GOo
> 
> Also some fun little notes from the bottom of the document:  
> > Omg my little sisters are telling eachother papa Louie fanfic and they mentioned Quinn talking about her ‘ex,’ Timm and I'm trying not to cry it's one am hOW DID THEY FIND OUT—  
> > I just realized the small cart I would buy ice cream from when I was a little kid played music (obv) and one of the songs was a music box(?) version of La Lambada. I didn't realize until yesterday, and it probably explains why I have such a close connection with that song. My mind is blown.


End file.
